My Perfect Nightmare
by Wisecrack Idiots
Summary: What if Bowser had ulterior motives for constantly kidnapping Peach? And what if those desires were finally put to the test? Rated for themes and language. DISCONTINUED.
1. Down in the Dark

Hi. It's Alex. Yeah, I wrote this one on my own because Sam was intelligent enough to not agree to aid me. This is just an experiment with seeing how I can master other genres. THIS ISN'T MEANT FOR THOSE FAINT OF HEART. If you have problems with rape-related concepts, don't read this. (Even thought it technically isn't rape due to consent and all, but whatever.) I am not gearing this toward people who want to hate me for writing this; rather, I'm exploring different themes. If you want to leave an opinion, then by all means, leave an opinion. Go ahead. I like hearing people express their thoughts.

Enjoy.

THIS IS FOR BOWSER WHO ISN'T AS BIG OF A CHUMP AND SHOW-OFF AS MARIO. HE TOTALLY DESERVES PEACH, DUDES.

~ (Alex)

* * *

**My Perfect Nightmare**

Something soft, silken, and cushiony pressed against the skin on her backside. Eyelids flickering, she winced at the touch of the fluorescent lighting filtering through the air and coming into contact with her blue eyes. In response her pupils dilated, and Peach writhed instinctively away from the oppressive glare of the lamplight. Dizziness and fatigue paralyzed the young Mushroom Princess' lithe frame.

Remnants of her restless, heavy slumber still lingered, and Peach licked her dry lips in attempt to moisten them. Every bone in her body dully throbbed; it felt as if one of the Toads had accidentally mowed her down with a twenty ton bus. For only a few heartbeats that seemed to stretch into infinity she lay dazed and motionless upon her enigmatic alter, uncertain about the situation that she was in.

_Where am I?_ The phrase echoed aimlessly amidst her fizzing skull, and the thought only made her wince in pain. Aloud, the mental projection sounded magnified, and the young woman cringed away from the excruciating timbre that pulsed within her head.

Wherever she was, something was wrong...

In attempt to master her aching body, Peach exhaled and tried to twitch the joints in her fingers. Although the nerves delivered the electrical response to her hands, the reaction was slow and uncertain. Internally something had numbed her natural reflexes. A bead of sweat trickled down her brow from the roots of her blonde hair.

Worse yet, she realized that as her vision adjusted to the brightness of the gloomy interior that she was shackled.

Binding her wrists and ankles were chains. What strength she could muster in her limbs resulted in the chains clanging in retaliation to her movements. Peach's current body position was an X shape; each attempt at struggling against her binds further yielded a deeper bruise that she could feel the chains digging into her flesh.

A whimper escaped her creased lips, leaving the Mushroom Princess shivering in trepidation.

As her drunken stupor began to fade, taking with it the buzzing in her head, she realized that apart from her two garments—a laced, pink bra and underwear—she was almost fully exposed. Embarrassment and humiliation tinged her cheeks bright crimson.

_Why? _

The single word served as a beacon of insubordination to her current predicament. Despite the fact that she was stripped and held in bondage, Peach allowed her sense of touch to take over and expand across the surface of her exposed skin. Underneath of her torso was a smooth surface, soft to the touch; judging from her surroundings—gray-toned stone walls—and a lack of ground view, she guessed that she was elevated on some sort of cushion. Ringing along the walls were mahogany shelves partially veiled by the shadows.

_This looks like a dungeon_, she mused, pursing her lips in disgust. To try and shy away from the realization gathering in the reaches of her heart, Peach distracted herself by focusing on what traces of her previous memories lingered:

_Stay calm, Peach. Try and remember—think!_ she hissed. _Why am I here? How did I get here? Where are Mario and Luigi?_ Ransacking her memories further, she mumbled, _We were in the woods, walking down an old path that led toward a neighboring kingdom. We were supposed to be visiting on diplomatic terms to discuss politics_... _Then everything goes blank_. In a rare moment of desperation, she cursed, "Damn it!"

Her throat tightened and convulsed with fear, bringing with it a sob that Peach fought to suppress.

Without warning a door slammed somewhere within the vicinity. Like a lioness, Peach's instinctive impulses to survive kicked in, and her muscles tightened. Adrenaline coursed through her blood, sending energy pumping through her skinny frame.

From within the reaches of a darkened hallway that connected to her chamber, a deep, soft growl spoke up. It seemed to be contradicting the steady multitude of younger, quieter voices that chittered in the blackness: "Keep back, kids. This is something that I need to take care of myself..."

Unintelligible gripes of protest followed, alien and undistinguishable. Amidst her memories the young woman couldn't place a name to the owner of the authoritative tone or the owners of the younger voices. They were too distant and too muted for her exhausted brain to register.

Seconds trickled by like the accumulating beads of sweat on her face; then, the light overhead sputtered out, plunging the room into impenetrable darkness. Peach's breath hitched in her throat as she tensed expectantly. Whether it was instinct or common sense, something told her that danger was approaching.

Suddenly a flame to her far left on one of the shelves flickered. Its auburn glow radiated a very small fraction of the room. In spite of the warmth that the candle projected, cold pinpricks needled the back of her neck.

Close to Peach's ear a husky murmur addressed her. "Forgive me for not attending to you sooner, my dear. There were complications, and I wished to...wait. For the right moment, you see."

This time the Mushroom Princess _could_ place a name to the voice from earlier, now that her skull wasn't throbbing as much. Before she could utter a sound, a candle in front of her burst into existence. Its pale flame illuminated the stone walls with a weak glow, also spreading its light far enough to reveal an all too familiar and unwelcome face.

Reptilian eyes widened with surprise as Bowser gazed at her. His expression was caught somewhere between smugness and gentleness, the latter of the two attributes rare for a face such as his. The Koopa's red eyebrows rose questioningly, while the clawed fingers still clutched around the match shook it until the glow faded out. Wispy smoke tendrils trailed from the unlit matchstick.

"Bowser." Venom interlaced the two syllables that Peach spat out. Despite her boldness, a tremor quavered in her voice. "What's going on? Why am I here?"

Rather than answer her directly, the King of the Koopas proceeded with igniting another matchstick and lighting a candle on the next shelf. To her surprise, as he circled around her with his attention focused on the candles, Peach realized that the wooden shelves formed a level ring around the chamber.

While he kept his face from meeting hers, Bowser answered in a velvety dictation, "There—the candle lights should help you see well. I apologize for the strobe lights from earlier." Turning to face her, he frowned in contemplation. "Those lights were infrared. They're heat-seekers that detect body movement. I needed to keep an eye on my monitors in order to tell when the chemicals' effects were fading. Thus, I could 'proceed' when I knew that you were awake."

Questions danced on the tip of Peach's tongue, but the only words that could get through were, "You _drugged_ me? That's low, even for you, Bowser."

A grin chiseled his face, revealing two rows of incisors. Under the glow of the candles' light, his deviant triumph made his face look almost—dare she say it?—_handsome_. "It may not be original, but for me it's a change of pace." A shrug, and Bowser added on, "Besides, it made my work a lot more easier. Might I also say that when unconscious you look _ravishing_, my dear."

Peach flinched. This was getting ridiculous; she also hated to admit it, but the awkward scenario was forcing her heartbeat to accelerate. "Where are Mario and Luigi?"

"The Italian brothers!" snorted Bowser in exasperation. Eyes closed in concentration, he crossed his arms before grunting, "They're safe, licking a few scratches but otherwise unharmed. They're off looking for my newest base, probably under the presumption that it's a five-story castle. They honestly believe that I'm incapable of tact."

"You _are_ incapable of tact," Peach retorted vehemently. "Honestly, how many of your schemes have we foiled from taking over the Mushroom Kingdom?"

Bowser's eyelids snapped open; arms held akimbo, he paced toward her until he was hovering over her semi-naked frame from the right side of the bed. Upon realizing what she was laying on top of, she shuddered into the silky sheets. With his right hand extended, his palm upturned toward the ceiling, he rested a single clawed finger on her chin and forced her face in his direction. Upon speaking, his musky breath buffeted her face: "You are a feisty little vixen, aren't you? Well," he stated in what resembled a purr, "I have news for you, princess: I'm not interested in taking over your little kingdom today."

Relief flooded over her. "Then let me go!" she demanded. It was the closest Peach's tender demeanor had ever comer to a snarl.

Triumph flickered in the Koopa's eyes. "I'm afraid that I can't."

_What?_ she gasped, her jaws falling open. "Then w-why am I here?" Peach gulped while trying desperately to inch away from his touch.

His grin melting into a coy, self-indulgent look, Bowser removed his hand away from her face. However much relieved Peach was, the sentiment lasted barely a second before the Koopa gently began to caress her midriff with a claw. Shivers embraced her body, and the young woman trembled violently as he traced circles over her skin.

"I hate to use stereotypes," Bowser explained in an extremely sultry, soft tone. His attention was too distracted with applying friction between them in ways that were deemed inappropriate. As he toyed with her by running his claw across her skin just along the upper rim of her underwear, the King of the Koopas drawled, "My least favorite of them is the one about dumb blondes. Hence, it would displease me to contradict myself and ridicule you as one. I believe you're more intelligent than that, Peach."

The way he pronounced her name made Peach grit her teeth; not out of anger, but to withhold a groan.

Koopas apparently had hypersensitive hearing, because a startled look flashed across Bowser's face when he caught hold of the concealed reaction. Smirking, Bowser pulled away and eyed her curiously. "What," he inquired, "was _that_?"

Unable to formulate a decent comeback, Peach swallowed the bulge in her throat and glanced away guiltily. To her incredulousness she could feel blood flush to her face, staining her cheeks bright scarlet. In all honesty, she never would have suspected Bowser of such lusting seduction. Every telltale motion he created with his muscular body sent pulses of longing through the air like an electrical current. Further still, she could tell that Bowser was not falsely acting nor behaving in such a perverted manner intentionally. It was as if all of his desires had been pent-up; a fact that terrified her, Peach discovered.

Quietly Bowser murmured, "You know why you're here. We both do. Otherwise, how could I explain the situation that you're in with convincing rationality?" He withdrew his contact and gazed into her eyes. Ruby and sapphire irises met, a clash of wills, and Peach bared her teeth in an almost feral display of hostility.

"I'll give you anything," insisted Peach stubbornly. Anxiety quelled her heart now beating at a tenfold rate, and forebodings eclipsed her soul. There was almost no doubt in her mind about what was going to transpire, but in a last-ditch effort reasoning seemed like a pretty safe bet. "Name your price, Bowser. What do you want?"

"I want _you_." Huskiness entered his voice, and Bowser brought his face close to hers. His lip barely grazed her ear; when he smirked, Peach could feel the line of his mouth twitch against her ear lobe. "I have a very limited vocabulary when it comes to explaining how long I have waited for this opportunity. Mario is hardly up to par with today's standards. Let's be realistic; if he really coveted you like I did, wouldn't he have claimed you as his own by now, princess?"

"I..." In spite of her better judgment, Peach mused, _Mario has his reasons_. _He's patient_. _He's waiting for the right time_. "At least Mario has the courtesy not to kidnap me and hold me prisoner against my will," the young woman persisted.

For the first time, sincere hurt flickered in his gaze, as if the comment had stung him. Now Bowser angled his head and pressed his lips against her neck. Like a lock in a key, the symmetry was perfect, and Peach had to muster herculean effort to hide her gasp. As he gently sucked on her neck, he whispered into her throat, "If I can't _explain it_ to you, perhaps I can _show_ you..."

Tension seized up her limbs. Desperately Peach tried to struggle; to her dismay, the drug he had used to render her immobile was still holding effect over her nervous system, so the Mushroom Princess was unable to do more than shift restlessly across the bed's surface. "When my friends come to rescue me," she tried to convey in a trembling, quiet octave, "they'll kill you for what you are doing."

Only for a moment did Bowser pull back to smile innocently at her. "I doubt it."

He lunged.

His face pressed into the area just above her breasts, he parted his jaws and kissed against her skin. Meanwhile, with both hands he reached forward to carefully pin her by the shoulders against the flexible bed sheets. Peach managed to scrape together enough dignity not to scream in protest as Bowser neared toward the upper edge of her bra. Unable to read his partially concealed expression, Peach hesitated in her struggles against her metallic binds.

Face to her skin, Bowser murmured, "I can hear your heartbeat pick up. I feel that you need...time...to adjust, so I'll make this easier for you."

Having uttered those words, he uprooted his palms and backed away from the royal, red-colored bed sheets. In spite of his indulgence, he looked calm and calculating, as if this were a decisive game of strategy. Peach instantly relaxed, expecting the worst to be over with.

She was wrong.

With a sidestep away from her, Bowser inhaled deeply into his powerful lungs, then exhaled. At once every candle in the dimly-lit room smoldered into inexistence with a quiet _hiss_. Only a muscular, outlined silhouette could distinguish Bowser from the impenetrable blackness of the chamber.

By now Peach was almost gasping with the force of her pounding heartbeat. In her chest it moved at the speed of a hummingbird's flapping wings.

Silence thickened with the heat of two sweating bodies permeated the air in the chamber. Then, she felt the gentle caress of his orange-toned fingers stroking her left calf. Peach's exhale trembled violently as the touch of clawtips was replaced by the silkiness of his lips. Against her will a shuddering moan left her mouth. Mortified, the Mushroom Princess went rigid and clamped her jaw shut.

Every sensation was magnified, which didn't help her when Bowser's mouth pulled away long enough to breath out, "I thought that you...didn't...want me?" His voice, too, was short of breath and coming out as puffs. His tone was both hopeful and perplexed by her change of behavior.

Wordlessly Peach hated herself for succumbing to her turbulent emotions. "You'll regret it, Bowser."

The Koopa's eyes lit up. "Is that a challenge?" he whispered in an almost threatening voice.

When she didn't reply and instead furiously glanced away, Bowser sighed, feigning disappointment. "Well, then," he mused aloud, "I suppose that it will take some time, but 'accommodations' can be made."

Before Peach could retaliate with her own choice language, the King of the Koopas resumed his ravenous lip-excavation this time near the uppermost rim of her left thigh. As he kissed her with greed, time and time against Bowser would switch territories between skin and clothing by playing tauntingly upon the fabric of her underwear. Icy beads of sweat now doused her forehead and face as Peach attempted to shy away from its implications.

"I'm sorry, Peach." He hesitated with a pregnant pause before resuming speaking in a muffled voice on the borderline between silk and skin. Seduction tinted his tone. "I've waited a long time for this moment. Instead of fighting the entire way, don't deny yourself the chance to forfeit yourself to me. Enjoy it—it could be pleasant if you let it be." To emphasize his point, with a clawed finger he reached under rim of her underwear and gave a longing tug.

Peach trembled. There was no way in hell that she could surrender to his wishes...even if she secretly yearned to close her eyes and embrace the darkness. "No." In her defense, the single word sounded weak and breathless, as if all manifestations to defend herself had been replaced with something of denial.

Bowser grinned; as he rested his chin against her stomach, Peach could hear him growl with pleasure. "Then again, I've always been pretty decent at the art of persuasion. Let's see if I can persuade you to do it with me, princess."

Claw still caught on the rim of the fabric, he gave a mild tug that exposed her vulnerability. With a cringe of desperation, Peach pleaded, tears caught near the corner of her sky-blue eyes, "Wait..."

Unto the gloom Bowser replied triumphantly, "Yes?"

"I... Very well. I—I accept."

"Don't sound so distressed, my dear." As the Koopa leaned forward to press his massive chest to her petite frame, he propped himself onto his elbows. With his right hand extended, Bowser massaged Peach's shoulder, to which the Mushroom Princess responded to with a gasp of pleasure. "You'll soon see that having sex with me was the best idea that you ever agreed to."


	2. Rude Awakenings

A transparent hum filled the air, vibrating within the chamber where Peach slept.

Dust motes flitted almost carelessly, playfully, joyfully, through the enclosed vicinity of the circular, stone-walled room. Stifling a mumbled yawn, Peach stirred, her eyelids fluttering open. Almost instantly the revelation broke upon her, startling her into wakefulness from her subconscious reverie: _I_..._I had sex with_...

Unable to supply the final piece to the mental jigsaw, the Mushroom Princess cringed. Not only had she succumbed to his deviant demands, but she had disgraced herself, her kingdom, her beliefs... In a reflexive response Peach brought her arms to her chest and wrapped herself in a tight cocoon, as if to shield herself from alien, mental probing. That was when she realized that her sore wrists and bruised ankles were free: she was no longer in bondage.

To test her uncertain theory, she raised her trembling hand above the royal-red bed sheets. In the pale gloom her unbound wrist was splotched with a livid bruise that orbited the joint in an O shape, like a ring.

With a faint gasp she withdrew her right hand below the covers and trembled. At some point during their midnight exploits, Bowser must have unchained her. Sure enough, as her gaze flitted toward one of the corners of the bed, the metallic chains were dangling limply from around one of the bedposts. At this realization, she trembled, aware of the fact that her body _ached_.

_Some night_, mused Peach at a desperate stab at wryness. However, in strident contradiction she shivered, unable to maintain a coy outlook to her predicament. _It feels like I was crushed by a boulder_... Wincing, the young woman tacked on, _That went_ _inside of me_.

While she pondered over her universal soreness, Peach did a quick analysis of her body by switching her posture into a supine position. Against her exposed skin the velvet sheets caressed her entirety, prompting a startled gasp out of her. Sure enough, her nerves' reflexes were sharp and accurate, no longer held captive under the effects of the drug.

Fear spread goose bumps across the back of her neck when she realized that Bowser was dozing only a foot away.

On top of the bed sheets he slept, his face utterly relaxed, and for once not tempered by stress or frustration. Stiffening, Peach felt her breath hitch in her throat, and she held it for fear of waking him. The King of the Koopas' heavily-armored, spiked green shell rose and fell in sync with his unlabored and peaceful breathing. Her instincts on high alert for any movement from Bowser, Peach realized as she listened intently that the hum that had roused her was his heartbeat. Like thunderclaps, his heart's slow, rhythmic pounding seemed to travel the distance between them and echo in her own chest. Instantly she was wary, and perplexed by the tempo. For reasons she couldn't explain, Peach felt an overwhelming temptation to lean her head against his flank and listen.

_Don't think like that!_ she contradicted herself. _He's sound asleep_. _Now is the perfect opportunity to escape_.

Heartened by the thought, silently the Mushroom Princess wormed toward the edge of the mattress. With one leg over the edge of the bedside, Peach used a free hand to pull back the covers and reveal her limber, curvy torso. As immature and unwelcome as the thought was, Peach couldn't help but note, _I feel like a spy. Granted, a spy that needs clothes_...

"Where did Bowser stash my belongings?" she whispered furiously to herself.

As the young woman placed both soles upon the stone floor and located her footing, from behind a heavy, quiet voice inquired, "Peach?"

An internal gale glazed her muscles with a firm coating of permafrost, rendering her temporarily immobile. Carefully Peach performed a one hundred and eighty degree about-face to stare at Bowser. With his chin raised from the feathery pillow, the Koopa blinked blearily at her, as if he was uncertain of the situation at hand. Upon observation, Peach realized that he was only partially alert; another quadrant of his brain was still entranced with exhaustion.

So as to not further awaken him, Peach brought a quivering finger to her lips and chattered, "Go b-back to sleep, darling..."

Whatever remnants of her intact "feminine charm" that still lingered must have had their effect, because a second later Bowser mumbled something incoherent and dropped his chin against the mattress. Gentle snoring, followed by the metrical thrum of his heartbeat, resounded within the room.

Relief flooded through her, and her shoulders sagged with gratitude.

_Now_, Peach consoled herself as she faced the hall leading from her chamber, _to find the exit_.

Into the darkness she padded, walking lightly upon her soles as she navigated the impenetrable black. For almost six minutes she explored blindly down the passageway, navigating by pressing her fingertips against the smooth stone walls. Time slipped by in what resembled eons before two lights—parallel to each other—clung to the upper rims of the tunnel.

Excitement flooded through Peach akin to a tsunami's torrents, and the Mushroom Princess almost skipped toward the two torches mounted into the stone. Beyond the gaping opening of the passageway expanded a large room. Many of Bowser's electronic devices divided the area into sections: monitors protruding from the walls, towers with knobs, levers, and switches emitting static; cables running along the length of the floor; screens that emitted bluish, white glows.

Evidently _this_ was his new hideout. From the lack of windows, and the pressure that seemed to weigh down upon the room, she gathered that his base was erected in a subterranean environment.

Underground.

Swallowing the gnarled bulge in her esophagus, cautiously Peach advanced a foot. Instantly a buzzing preoccupied the back of her skull, as if she were under a translucent inquiry. Trying to shove the feeling aside, she blinked, all the while adjusting her sky-blue eyes to the dimness. One step later and the insect-like trill doubled. Teeth gritted, Peach roved the perimeter of the room with her gaze.

"If the drug has worn off," she hissed to herself, "then what could be causing the..."

Her chin dipped toward her chest, Peach withheld a startled exclamation as a red-lighted probe fixated upon her bare stomach. The single pinprick was emanating warmth from it. Furthermore, she could feel the buzzing sensation in her head respond to the contact with the light speck, as if the two sources were in correlation.

Realization dawned upon the young woman: _It's a sensor, and it's monitoring me_. Her heart skipped a beat in her chest. _It's a security system_.

Sure enough, clinging to the wall in the far left, adjacent corner was a sensor module with its beam fixated solely on her uncovered form. Below the rotatable module's lens shone a tiny beacon of red, phosphorous light. Linking the dot on her chest to the blinking icon on the podium was a thin cord of light.

Backwards she retreated into the safety of the hallway's torch-lit dusk. _I need to disable it somehow_, Peach groaned. This was far from an enjoyable prospect, nor one that she had on her agenda. _Or at least focus its attention on something else_.

"_Those lights were infrared. They're heat-seekers that detect body movement. I needed to keep an eye on my monitors in order to tell when the chemicals' effects were fading_."

Loathsome as the idea was, Bowser's words came harking back amidst the foregrounds of her recollections. Peach straightened her posture and glared into the room where the module's lights now roved across the tiled floor. If it was attracted to heat, perhaps she could supply it with a new victim...

Stretching out her spine, the Mushroom Princess groped for the handle of a torch mounted into tits holsters. Fingers clasped around the wooden bough, she plucked it from the holster and brought it eyelevel with her face. Again she repeated the process until both beacons blazed, one in each hand. Satisfied, she gingerly tiptoed toward the entryway into the larger room. At the other side of the area was another hallway. Chances were that Bowser's hideout had multiple rooms to it, like a labyrinth, with one main exit at the very beginning of his base.

With a quiet, deep meditative breath Peach wound back her right arm. As a catapult would, she projected the first torch forward. It sailed through the air in a graceful arch that trailed with several embers flickering off of the tail. When it slapped into the tiled floor and skidded two feet, the module's light gauge targeted the fallen torch. Its pinpoint locator signaled through the air on an invisible, red-lighted chord and fixed itself upon the handle.

At the last second Peach managed to suppress a whoop of glee. Muscles taut, she nimbly bounded across the room, swerving around the Koopa's instruments without making contact. To her astonishment, she was much more fluid and swift without her voluptuous pink dress. Hadn't she learned about aerial friction and slipstreams from go-karting months ago? _And here I never thought I would actually apply physics to my life_, she remarked with grim amusement. Barefoot, the young woman was able to travel about halfway across the room with one torch still in her left hand.

That was when the module's monitor had become bored with watching its motionless target and rotated toward her. The red spot touched her skin from the long-range flashlight, and the buzzing filled her head again.

_That noise_... She skidded to a halt and glanced at her body, doing a quick evaluation of her physical condition. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

_Suppose that the buzzing is trying to_..._to_... Before she could compose her thoughts, a heavy dizzy spell fogged across her conscience. _It's_..._it's messing with my head_. _Somehow. Gotta throw_..._the second_..._torch_...

Shaking the grogginess from her head, numbly she managed to toss the second torch toward a large, basin-like capsule filled with plasma. Egged on by the velocity of the torch and less attracted to Peach's stillness, the module redirected toward the bait.

Not wasting a second, Peach dispersed her last burst of stamina and charged into yet another hallway illuminated by torches.

"Everything seems quiet. Best keep moving." It was odd to be holding a conversation with herself, but it at least helped calm her down.

Down the newest passage she trekked warily, her senses on high alert for Bowser possibly approaching from behind, or the sound of a Koopa or Goomba guard on patrol. _That _wouldn't surprise her if he had cronies stationed throughout the base; to what extent she couldn't fathom, but it struck her as weird that she hadn't yet encountered any adversaries.

_What happened last night?_ As much as Peach disliked the prospect of revisiting her memories, she knew that she had to survey the damages done. _Instead of actual memories, I have vague_..._sensations. I remember being stripped, no doubt about that. I think that I can recall multiple times where he kissed me_—she flinched—_in one way or another, or where he really started to_—

Speechless with abhorrence, Peach shuddered and continued treading noiselessly down the tiled-floored hallway. Unbidden, every time she tried to conjure and revisit scenes from her memories, the appalling notion nauseated her. Hypocritical as it was, there was a lingering trace of ecstasy that made her heartbeat expedite.

_I suppose that elation is to be expected, considering that Bowser robbed me of my virginity._ Arctic beads of sweat began to condensate on her asked herself mentally, _Suppose you kissed him back?_

Horrified by the thought, Peach paused, shivering slightly from the belowground temperature. Being unclothed didn't help her, either.

_No_. _I didn't_. _I'm sure that I didn't kiss him back, or do anything_..._else_. _It was rape_. _Nothing more, nothing less_.

Glancing up, she came to the understanding that she had travelled—without realizing it—into a smaller room that vaguely resembled a kitchen. Granted, it was still dark, so it was hard to say. A long countertop rested against one of the more abbreviated walls. Indented into the stretch of polished granite was a sink with a faucet, while a fridge stood solemnly at one edge of the countertop.

"Be grateful that I'm decent enough not to pilfer food from you, Bowser," she remarked in an undertone. Despite her insistence, her stomach quietly protested.

As she assessed her situation and glanced between Option A and Option B—two different passageways—three voices resonated from down her second passageway of choice. Footsteps were pattering in her direction. Glancing around wildly, Peach locked her gaze on a closet off to her left. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and the young woman hastily flung open the door and stuffed herself inside. Surprisingly, many robes and other articles of clothing were being hung. Sadly, none of them were _hers_.

Outside a feminine voice was addressing another occupant of the kitchen: "Larry, this is the last time that I'm going to tell you to STAY OUT OF MY ROOM. _My_ stuff is not _your_ stuff."

Rebelliously a younger, equally high-pitched voice retorted, "That's not fair! If Dad was here, he'd say that it's okay! How else am I supposed to practice my theft skills?"

The fridge door opened with a _clang_. With her ear pressed to the door, Peach could hear a third speaker retaliate, "Do yourself a favor and shut up. Everyone knows that I'm Dad's favorite. After all, he named me after him, didn't he?"

In the closet Peach stiffened_. Bowser Junior is here? Larry, too? Then that must be_—

"At least I'm the only girl," snapped the single female of the trio. "I get to claim being 'Daddy's girl.'"

"That's just stupid, Wendy," scoffed Larry. She could distinctly hear him pausing to chug something down his throat; following a loud gulp and belch, the Koopa offspring pointed out, "Speaking of Dad, I wonder where he is? Ever since he went to go interrogate our captive—"

"Oh,_ please_." Evidently Bowser Junior had inherited his father's smugness and exceeding capacity for scorn, because the youngest son reasoned, "We all know that Dad's not torturing her for information. Otherwise, he would have invited us along"

Naïve Larry swallowed something on the opposite side of the door; upon releasing another thunderous belch, he questioned, "Then what is he doing?"

Agreeing with her brother, Wendy tacked on, "And what could have taken him all night, too?"

There were several _clangs_ that sounded this time similar to glass cups being knocked over. A swear sounded from one of the siblings, and Larry piped up shrilly, "Watch it! That was my breakfast you just splattered all over the counter!"

"Then clean it up," Bowser Junior yawned idly. Resuming their original conversation over Larry's grumbled protests, he reasoned, "Didn't you see how Dad was actin' last night? If you ask me, he and Princess Peach were probably smoochin'."

"Ew!" squealed Wendy. "That's _disgusting_! Did you have to tell me that while I was _eating_?"

"There's more." To her bewilderment, Peach found herself drawn into their discussion. Although blind to what they were doing, she could imagine them standing about the counter while fetching something to eat for themselves. "Late last night, around two in the morning I saw Dad carrying a box. I was...curious"—Bowser Junior actually sounded guilty—"so I snooped around and opened it after he had left. Guess what was in it?"

"Was it an axe to chop your head off with?" Larry seethed.

"A baby Chain Chomp?" Wendy inquired, ignoring her brother's threats.

"Neither." Bowser Junior snickered. "It was Princess Peach's clothes!"

Gasps of surprise followed his statement. Meanwhile, a very nude Peach squirmed in humiliation and pressed deeper into the closet against the rack of hanging clothes. She could detect the telltale signal of blood rushing to her cheeks, turning them bright crimson with embarrassment.

"What were they doing?" gasped Wendy.

Bowser Junior loftily replied, "A three-letter word, obviously. C'mon, I'll show you her clothes!"

"Bu—But my breakfast!" whined Larry.

"Eat it later," Wendy snorted.

"Hey, Wendy, wanna play 'dress up' with her gown?"

A delighted squeal, followed by, "Duh," answered his question.

Rapidly their footsteps retreated from where they had started, going down a hallway and leaving the vicinity.

Her pulse gradually decreasing, Peach peered out from behind the door. _His kids are here, too? If that's the case_... She pursed her lips. _I should at least find something to cover myself up with_. Retreating back into the cramped confines of the closet, she said to herself as she ransacked through the garments, _That was rather helpful. I at least know where Bowser placed my stuff. But how do I acquire it without his kids seeing me?_ On a more personal note, she consoled herself, exhaling, _Thank God that Bowser and I weren't "doing it" all night long. At some point he had to have become exhausted._

Holding a blue and white-trimmed robe closer for inspection, the Mushroom Princess remarked, "This looks like Kamek's..."

Better than nothing.

Two minutes later she exited the birchwood closet, clothed, and quietly set the door back into its closed position from minutes beforehand. It creaked in protest but locked when she clicked it back into place. Sighing in relief, she paced toward the center of the room at the entrance to the kitchen, meanwhile focusing her consideration toward the remaining two hallways.

_Which should I take?_ wondered the young woman dismally.

Suddenly two muscular arms wrapped around her waist, while meanwhile a hot breath was expelled upon the back of her neck.

Peach froze, unable to turn around and face her captor nor wrestle from his grip and flee.

"Where do you think you're going, love?"

A thwack to the back of her skull sent Peach plunging into a suffocating darkness.


	3. Here Goes Nothing

Dear Internet,

I have a bit of a confession to make.

One dark and stormy night, during a long and satisfying SSB:B marathon, I made the fatal mistake of selecting Peach as my fighter. Sam, who had unwittingly chosen Bowser, scoffed, and the brawl commenced. There was no shortage of insults traded back and forth, and moments where we paused the game mid-fight in order to freeze-frame some rather lucrative shots of Bowser nailing Peach to the floor with one of his attacks (as the teenage mind is inclined to do). Hilarity ensued, and soon, laughter gave way to jesting speculation all surrounding the infamous Bowser Jr.-is-Peach's-son theory from Super Mario Sunshine. In the middle of our scandalous laughs Sam insisted, "Like there's any way in hell they could form a relationship after all of those kidnappings." To which I wittily replied, "Oh yeah? Then sit back and prepare to have your mind blown."

Her mind was indeed blown. In fact, it was _scarred _from the several page then-intended one-shot I had written.

I then made the second fatal mistake of posting it on the Internet.

In one fell swoop I had unintentionally trolled the entire Internet, leading them to believe that the follow-up chapter I had written was intended to be taken seriously, that this was the beginning of more to come. Once the euphoric high had abated I took a moment to lean back in my chair and survey the damage done. People genuinely liked this monstrosity of a fic, and lo I had backed myself into a corner, one in which readers awaited the next chapter with bated breath. "No!" cried Alex, head thrown back as she wailed in dismay at the awful thing she had done.

That is why, my dear readers, I wish to apologize for what I'm about to do:

I'm discontinuing the story.

What I'd originally posted as a joke to mindrape my friends with exploded in popularity, much to my incredulity and dismay. Flattered as I am that so many people seemed to enjoy pseudo!Peach/Bowser sexytimes, I just can't will myself to commit to this fic. It was never meant to be anything more than an immature prank. I cannot, in good consciousness, write this, simply because the voice in my head _balks_ every time I try to say "Bowser and Peach have chemistry" while keeping a straight face. I don't have enough dignity left to waste on this story. I'm still having a hard time believing _My Perfect Nightmare_ raked in 46 reviews (none of which feel deserved, especuially after posting this).

To anyone who actually did want to see where this story was going, then I'm so sorry I got your hopes up for nothing. I really am.

That being said, I do wish to conclude on a lighter note: This story is being put up for adoption.

I have over 1400 words' worth of notes, in addition to a bulk of the third chapter sitting on my flashdrive looking for a good home. Anyone who wants to take up the mantle need only send me a polite PM, and I'll more than happily give it all away. There's really no criteria. Just show me that you really do want to continue this fanfiction, in whatever manner you see fit, and I'll hand over the reins. My only stipulation is that I be allowed to keep the original copy posted here. The new owner can re-post the first two chapters, and then just keep adding on. I'll even link the new owner and fic here on this story, so readers know where to go.

Well, I think that's everything. Let me just go over my list first.

Heartfelt apology? Check.

Adoption notice? Check.

Yep. That's everything. So, uh, if you're interested just let me know, and I'll post a fourth "chapter" to notify everyone when the new author has been selected ― provided there are genuinely interested prospective owners.

Best to all of you.

Alex


End file.
